One step too far
by Cherry-Hime-chan
Summary: Actions and reactions. When Ron's jealousy gets out of control it leads to some major consequences. His actions bring Hermione straight to Voldemort's front-steps, and the Dark Lord isn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. AU after sixth year.
1. Chapter 1

Severus Snape paced the length of Dumbledore's make-shift office agitatedly, his thin lips pulled into a furious scowl meant for the manipulative old fool. How dare he try to excuse that... that despicable thing! The girl was tortured mentally and psychically both and that dim-witted excuse of a back-stabbing friend expected her to just get over it and get back to normal. 'As if that was ever so simple.' He thought bitterly.

"She was held there for two bloody weeks, Albus! Two bloody weeks with Bellatrix Lestrange for company. Don't belittle that fact for the sake of an immature boy who can't even realize his own mistakes."

"As you have said Severus, it was a mistake on Mr. Weasley's part, not a-"

"His bloody mistake, though we both know it was no such thing, could have cost the girl her very life, Albus. It would have of, if not for a stroke of sheer luck on our part. It still befuddles me how she managed to escape the Malfoy manor all on her own. So tell me, what are you going to do about Weasley, dear friend?" He fervently hoped for something painful and lasting.

Dumbledore's usually calm and friendly expression has slipped from its place and was replaced with a stony mask of indifference.

"You know very well Severus, that Mr. Weasley's part in Harry's life is imperative for his emotional well-being. They're the best of friends, after all. Surely, you can see how devastating the lack of said friendship could prove to be, especially in Harry's case."

"OH and Miss Grenger is what, exactly? A walking and talking encyclopedia favored only when poor Mr. Potter needs his homework done for him? But let's not forget Albus. She's also quite handy when it comes to saving Potter's pathetic life and getting him out of mortal perish." The double spy sneered in earnest.

"But who really cares about such nonsensical things as Mr. Potter's continual life-span. After all, it's far more convenient all around to ally your golden boy with Mr. Weasley , who might I remind you, is such a consistent and loyal boy, never turning his back on dear Harry whenever something doesn't strike his fancy, never encouraging him on his dangerous and foolhardy adventures, and oh, he's so studious and bright! Merlin forbids anybody dares to call that boy judgmental, as well. A true pillar of support and understanding, indeed. So yes, yes Albus! I quite agree with you there. Mr. Weasley is much more important and contributive to Potter's well-being than Miss Grenger, who, might I remind you in your old age, is now permanently scared because of her loyalty to Potter, but foremost, because Weasley let some Death Eater whore manipulate him into leading Miss Grenger into a trap."

Dumbledore took a breath, his pale lips parted to form words, but Severus wasn't quite done yet. "Why won't you see reason, Albus? He practical handed her to them on a silver platter. He's a danger to the whole of Order. He's even a danger to your precious Potter!" He spat.

With his teeth bared and whole frame shaking with suppressed rage at the constant injustice coming from the headmaster, Professor Severus Snape made quite a sight.

If Harry were to later on reflect upon that night, he would have undoubtedly came to the conclusion that it was exactly that image, of his most hated potions Master so moved, which spurred him into action. He gripped his yew wand tightly and took a shuddering and much needed breath, as at some point during this enlightening conversation he forgot to draw it in. Harry acted quickly, as both Snape and Dumbledore had finally noticed his presence under the Invisibility cloak.

"Kretcher, take me to Ron." Said elf, although reluctantly, obeyed at once. With a snap of small greenish fingers Harry Potter was apparated. He found himself in Grimlaud place's kitchen, unnoticed by both Molly and Ron, who were busy with an argument of their own.

"-seeking attention!" Ron shouted at his mother, his face blotchy red and twisted with jealousy.

"Ronald Weasley! You should be ashamed of yourself!" The Weasley matriarch shouted as well, seemingly at end's wit. „I won't believe that poor girl would want to get abducted to bring-!-"

"She ruined everything, mom! Everything! It should have been about me-" Ron seemed to be working himself into an angry rant, but Harry knew he had to act fast; Snape and Dumbledore were surely looking for him by now. And although he would have certainly loved to hear what Ron had to say, time was pressing. He raised his arm, pointed, and shouted with inner will and deep intention to uncover this whole bloody mess.

 _"Legilimens!"_

* * *

Ron sneaking off with his cloak to a nearby muggle village. He can't stand it back there. It's always Harry this or Harry that. Or better yet, -Oh, Miss Grenger, you're so brilliant!-, -Oh, Miss Grenger, your research is invaluable! -Oh, Miss Grenger that or Miss Grenger this!-. Bloody insufferable, that's what she is.

He wanders about and gets bored. Nothing happens. He goes back.

It's a week later. Ron is sneaking off again. This time he's got a plan. It's not like anyone will notice he's gone, anyway. And he's right, nobody notices for weeks. He keeps sneaking off. He's fallen into a pattern. He gets to the village and discretely shrugs off the cloak, a practiced glamour charm already firmly in place. He is not _stupid_ , after all. He goes straight to the local pub. His charmed visage gets him a lot of attention from the ladies. Ron loves it, even though they're fawning not over copper and blue and freckles, but over a dark mysterious man in his mid-twenties, with high cheek bones and even darker smoldering eyes with curling eyelashes. He's been practicing it for _ages_.

He stays for two maybe three hours at most. Then he goes back, pleased beyond believe with himself because the ladies always ask him to come back. Secretly, he gets a kick off from acting snobbish and posh.

Then one day when Ron enters what he came to call his pub, there she is. Sitting at his usual booth. Ron's mind struggles to comprehend her 'wet-dream' beauty, but in the end he just gives up and stumbles to the bar. With two drinks in hand he squares his wide shoulders and struts up to the girl, no, to the woman. Before Ron can sit down the woman is up. She looks him up and down and then settles on his eyes. A satisfied smirk curls her painted lips.

"So it's true what they say. You're hot." She licks her lips and takes the drinks out of Ron's hands. Before Ron can comprehend what is really going on his virginity is a distant memory. His thoughts filled with ample curves and loud praises of his capabilities.

They keep meeting. Miss Samantha Mallory is apparently a squib. What a pleasant surprise. She is aware of the current going ons in the wizarding word via her cousin, who unfortunately attends Drumstag so Ron can't know him. What a shame.

After two weeks Ron is in love. Samantha is such a great girl. He feels as if they are meant to be. She is also very perceptive. She can feel that something is bothering her darling. Ron trusts her, besides, she loves him too, he's sure of that. She wouldn't betray him.

And do he confides in her.

She is very understanding; his love, and even devises a plan to show that frizzy-haired bitch what she's losing. Ron just has to bring that wench to the village, or better yet, that dense patch of trees will work even better. She'll see the beautiful woman that Samantha is and her clear adoration for Ron and that'll show her for sure! She'll know then that Ron is now forever out of her reach and regret disregarding him in favor of Harry bloody Potter.

Ron agrees with her plan. After all, what could possibly go wrong with it? It's just a harmless plot to show Hermione up her holier than thou nose.

Even luck agrees with him on that apparently, as three days later Ron offers to accompany Hermione for additional protection on her trip to gather local herbs for a few bases she is brewing for Snape for some more complicated healing potions and creams. Everything is arranged accordingly. Safety measures are in place and the two of them march off with strict orders not to go any further than they're supposed to.

It goes surprisingly ease.

When Hermione is bent over some plant Ron confundes her and sends a quick patronus to Samantha. Hermione falls face first into the greenery, but Ron pulls her up at once.

"Come on, we have to run now!" Ron tells her urgently. Hermione is confused, but her brain seems to realize the necessity in Ron's voice and she follows her friend as fast as she can. When the fog of confusion lifts from her brain enough to notice something is not quite right, it's already too late. She looks at Ron's smug face and a deep confused frown mares her own.

"Ron, what's going on? Where are we?" She inquires slowly.

"Oh, I just wanted you to meet someone."

"You, you what?" Hermione asks him, not understanding.

Ron waves at a bunch of trees and Hermione seems floored when a woman emerges from them, but Ron is even more surprised when six men in black cloaks and masks follow right behind her.

"Sa-Sammy?" Ron stutters, a cold sweat gathers at his brow. He's so shocked it doesn't even occur to him to take out his wand, to run, to do anything at all. He just stands there.

Sammy doesn't acknowledge Ron though; she turns to one of the Death Eater and jerks her chin in his direction. "There you go. Ronald Weasley and the mudblood, as per our deal."

"Yes, excellent. The Dark Lord will be pleased with you, cousin." The man drawls.

Ron draws in a shocked breath when he recognizes the blonde-white hair of Lucius Malfoy. He sputters and attempts to draw his wand, but another Death Eater disarms him before he can even point it properly, he notices that he has summoned Hermione's wand as well.

Malfoy turns to him and it looks like he's about to say something, but another Death Eater calls out to him at that moment. "Lucius, we have specific orders, my friend."

"Yes, yes. Time is of the essence." Malfoy gives a put-upon sigh. He casts a silent spell then and Ron falls down into a sprawled mess of liquefied bones.

The whole confrontation takes not even a minute.

From his fallen position all Ron can see are Hermione's shoes. Numbly, he notes that she is yet to react at all.

"Miss Grenger," The other Death Eater who spoke earlier to Malfoy is talking now. "It would be in your best interest to come with us willingly."

Ron thinks the curse thrown at him must have impaired his hearing as well.

"Oh, yes, of course. Might I inquire first by which way shall we be traveling, though? I am terrified of heights, you see, so broom-flight would be highly inadvisable. I'm very adept at apparation, though."

There is a stretch of deep silence as the men all look at each other. Surely, they must have expected something different than this upper-middle class inquiry. Miss Mellory must have grown tired of the silence as with a toss of her blonde hair she marches up to Hermione. Ron saw her falter mid step and then heard her huff of laughter.

"She's high!" She informs the gathering. A moment later Malfoy joins her side, a few steps away from Hermione.

"My, my... Her pupils are indeed enlarged. ...How fortunate."

"Miss Grenger, we shall of course accommodate to your needs. Will side-along be acceptable to you?" Ron can hear the evil smirk oozing from his sickly amused voice.

Hermione steps from one foot to another. "Certainly, Lord Malfoy. It would be much appreciated."

"Wait, aren't you going to take him as well?" Sammy interrupts them.

"No, we've no use for a useless blood-traitor like him."

* * *

Whatever happened next, Harry can only guess, as he is forcibly pushed out from Ron's mind by Dumbledore a minute or so later.

He doesn't care though, as he has seen enough in his opinion. The headmaster is speaking to him now, probably trying to do damage control, Harry thinks bitterly, but he turns to Snape abruptly and ignores Ron, who has slumped to the floor in exhaustion. There is one more mater he needs to attend to.

"An orange-ish plant, with very regular leaves shaped like arrows, its rots are covered in purple slime. What does it do and what are its uses?"

"It's very common to any magical forests in this area. It can cause many symptoms depending on specific circumstances, like the time it was harvested or how it came into contact with the organism. It's mostly used for creating healing salves for infected cuts if brewed correctly." Snape recites in his most professional lecture voice.

"And if someone were to fall face first into such a plant during day-time, around zenith?" Harry can suspect already, but he wants to be sure.

"Hallucination, a very specific feeling of everything being rightful, followed by nausea, rashes and irrational behavior. Is there a point to this, Mr. Potter?" Snape sneers at him like he always does; full of contempt and malice, but Harry notices the light of satisfaction in his eyes. Finally, at least, someone connects the dots.

"Yes." He answers curtly. He then turns to Dumbledore and tries not to feel intimidated.

"Why have you lied about what happened with Ron and Hermione, professor? Why did you support Ron's lies?" He hears Molly's gasp and feels sorry for her, but it's nothing compared to his feelings for Ron at this moment.

"Harry, please, try to see the bigger picture here, my boy. I did what had to be done, for the greater good. What you need right now is support from these you hold dear so you don't lose yourself in the darkness surrounding you. Miss Grenger right now needs support herself; she's too weak to lend you strength you so desperately need. While Ronald might have made a mista-"

Dumbledore was beseeching him with his blue eyes, he appeared sorrowful, but Harry noted the twinkle in his eyes was ever present; ready to scheme, plot and manipulate. He felt betrayed. The feeling was hot and cold at the same time, his face was pale and he felt shivers running down his spine. He was also so very, very angry. But even more so hurt.

Why? Why must he always be manipulated? Why him? Why can't people just stop lying to him? For God's sake, it was his bloody life! His own! Didn't he deserve to know the truth? What right did Dumbledore have to make decisions for him? Decisions he was very much capable of making on his bloody own. As if Dumbledore had any right to it. He was his own person, damn it!

And Hermione… oh God, Hermione! A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He was going to be sick, oh god, so sick! How could he? How could he do that to her? Doubt her, when she needed him the most. Her, who always stood by him no matter what; always supported him, never wavered from his side. She always believed him, always believed _in_ him. Even when she disagreed with him, she still _always_ had his back. He could always count on her with _everything_. Always by his side. Always ready to take authority in his stead, when he wasn't ready to face his responsibilities. From doing his fucking homework to saving him from a bunch of snatchers when he was foolish enough to venture out on a fucking picking with Ron and dragging her along!

He still remembers it perfectly. They were laid out on a blanket on a patch of grass. It was supposed to be a day free from work, free from stress. Him and Ron were playing a game of muggle chess and Hermione was reading some book. She wasn't relaxed though. Her posture was tense and strung. Her lips were pulled into a fierce scowl, a residue from a spat between her and Ron. He was telling her to pull that stick out of her ass and she replaying that she might do so if he stops foolishly exposing them to mortal danger with his even more foolish escapades, only relenting when Harry intervened that he could use some time away from the Head Quarters.

And what happens not even twenty minutes later? Mortal danger, that's what happens. The food they sneaked out of the kitchen has gotten cold and Ron casts a warming charm on it without a thought. There are hooks of apparation everywhere in a second. Too fast even for Harry to blink. But Hermione is already on her feet, casting Protego around the three of them. She shouts at Ron to grab Harry and then her, but Ron is trying to take out his wand with shaking hands. Harry reacts and grabs Ron instead, taking hold of his arm. "Hermione!" He screams when a nasty, bone melting spell is aimed their way, but the shimmering blue of their shield holds if only barely. Harry tugs on Hermione's left hand in silent askance. She doesn't spare him a glance. All her attention is concentrated on the three men trying to take down their shield. A bead of perspiration gathers on her brow. She raises her wand arm higher and then sweeps it down in a sharp arch ending with a loop. Blinding light explodes and only then Hermione spares him a glance. She takes hold of his hand and then of Ron's and spins them out of there in a moment's notice.

She apparates the three of them at the cost of two toes of her left foot, they've gotten splinched.

All this has taken two minutes. Two bloody minutes. She didn't speak to them for a month afterwards. Harry didn't press for forgiveness, he was too ashamed. Too ashamed of his own inability and of his own foolhardiness.

And now? Now again, he has failed her. A bone-deep loathing overcomes him then. Loathing for himself, for Dumbledore, for Ron, for Voldemort, but most of all, for himself. Wasn't he supposed to be the hero? The one to save everyone? And yet, he couldn't even _keep_ one person safe _,_ so let's not even talk about _saving_ anyone. He has to face the truth, however awful it may be. Without Hermione to guide him, he was lost. What good was sheer power and a knack for fighting if he was hopeless in the bigger picture?

It's as she once told him, "You're not going to win _the_ war by overpowering all your enemies in a duel, Harry. When it comes down to it, you and Voldemort are going to have to face off, you know that, but how are you going to accomplish that if you're _dead?_ Killed off in a cross-fire by a bunch of snatchers and a few Order members because you just _had_ to step in. I understand that you were badly ambushed and you had the advantage of surprise while being hidden under your cloak, but Harry, if you wanted to help, there were far better and _safer_ options for you to do so. And none of them involves you _jumping out from under your cloak_ , for God's sake." She looked close to tears, frustrated, furious and worried all at once.

"I get it, I really do, that you feel like you have to personally save every each person, but Harry, sometimes we have to pick our battles. You have to own up to the responsibility that has been forced upon your shoulders, Harry, and I'm sorry to tell you this because I know how it's going to make you feel, but you need to know this. These men and women, they are fully aware that they're risking their own lives during those relocations, but they do it to protect you. They're fully aware of what you are unwilling to realize. _Your life is far more important than any other._ They know that, they accept that, and so should you."

The lecture tasted bitter to him then and still was, and it was quite some time before he came to terms with it. Now though, he had an epiphany. His life was not more important than that of other's, because on his own, he was useless.


	2. Chapter 2

"Omph!" Hermione staggered on her feet, she would have fallen down for sure, but thankfully one of Lord Malfoy's friends steadied her by taking hold of her other arm and pulled her up.

"Thank you, sir. You are far too kind. Do you play Quidditch perchance? Your reflexes are very apt." Hermione inquired politely with genuine curiosity present in her voice. The man tilted his head, but Hermione couldn't tell whether he was looking at her or not for the silver mask obscured his face.

"Why, yes. As a matter of fact, I do enjoy a good game from time to time. Although, I must admit that my apt reflexes were honed in a different manner. Would you like to hear about it, Mu-Miss Granger, while we wait for the Dark Lord?"

"Oh, please, sir. Do tell." Hermione bobbed her head excitedly while her eyes wandered around the luxurious receiving room.

"As you know, as a member of my Lord's vast army, it is expected of me to perform certain activities to contribute to our rightful society and main goal. You know of it, yes? Good, good. Well then, some of these activities pertain to purging the unsavory from those of pure birth, like myself or my son, Theodore - you attend Hogwarts with him -, unfortunately, some of those of inferior breading do not comprehend their error and try to resist. Can you imagine? And so, one such as myself must develop apt reflexes to be able to disarm them and then get rid of them. It'd be quite a shame if a member of our high society were to be maimed or even perhaps killed because he lacked the necessary skill and reflexes to offend and defend. Wouldn't you say, Miss Granger?"

"But of course!" Hermione nodded emphatically. An expression of utmost understanding was etched onto her face.

"Ah, and here comes our Lord, mind your manners Miss Granger, the Dark Lord doesn't tolerate rudeness."

Whatever Hermione what about to reply was interrupted however, as she bent over and hurled all over Mr. Nott's polished shoes.

"I'm so sorry, I'm not feeling all that well suddenly. Perhaps I should sit down." And she plopped down unceremoniously on the carpeted floor. Her head was feeling funny but she mustn't forget the manners! She wasn't quite sure where her wand was at the moment, but still! She waved her hand in the general direction and the vomit vanished, unfortunately along with Mr. Nott's shoes. Oh well, she tried.

"Well, I certainly had people cry and scream at my sight, but I can't quite recall anyone throwing up." The Dark Lord drawled. "I don't look _quite_ that bad, do I?" He asked the woman behind him.

"Not at all, My Lord. Serpentine is the new black this season." Narcissa Malfoy was perhaps the only woman to joke in the face of the Dark Lord _about_ the Dark Lord.

"Alas, it seems our guest is indisposed, My Lord."

"So it seems, my dear. And how it came to be, Luciusss?" It was quite evident the good humor was gone. The hiss that came with Lucius' name evidence enough. The after mentioned man stiffened and shot his wife a telling look. Apparently she was still displeased about their last disagreement.

"Not at all my fault, My Lord. She was handled with utmost care. She, ah, indulged herself with some specific beforehand?" And she must have, he just wasn't sure how it came to be. Merlin was on his side thankfully, as he was spared from further explanations. He suppressed the instinctive shiver when his mind was entered and Lord Voldemort skimmed the happenings in the forest. At least he was being subtle and painless. He mentally sent silent gratitude to his one and only master.

"Yes, yes, enough with this groveling. Leave, all of you." He commanded, and like the loyal followers they all were vacated the receiving room without a second glance with occasional murmurs of "I live to serve, My Lord" and deep bows of respect, or some might say fear.

When alone with the mudblood Lord Voldemort approached the leather armchair and sat down regally. He tapped his fingers on the armrest in thought. He rather doubted the girl indulged herself as the elder Malfoy suggested. A one-time thing in the middle of the day in company? Unlikely. Addiction? Impossible. Her hair although rather unflatteringly bushy were healthy and shiny, her fingernails were well-kept and her complexion clear. Oh well…

" _Legilimens_!"

Well, well, well… Such an interesting turn of events. Just a surface scan and yet it reveled so much. Although it cost Nott senior his Italian shoes it certainly came in use to him right now.

"Miss Granger. Miss Granger, look at me, now. Yes, that's good. Are you aware of what is happening to you right now?" He took the pathetic groan as a no. Just as well, then. He delved into her unprotected yet fuzzed mind and pushed the erratic memories away. He didn't need them, after all. He needed to get somewhere deeper, somewhere else. Under the surface thoughts and feelings, behind the curtain, so to speak. He went deeper and deeper, batting the misplaced memories away. When he was finally submerged where no conscious thoughts would pay him any mind he began.

BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE

 _One, two, three, four, five…_

 _One, two, three, four, five…_

 _One, two, three, four, five…_

 _Oven cleaner, spot remover, mimicry of human blood, aid in healing…_

 _What's the fifth one? I had it! I had it just a moment ago… Hadn't I?_

"But what about the rest? What about the other seven uses?"

 _I… I've known them! I did! I've known them all…_

"Have you? Have you really? Have you ever really known anything at all? What about Ron? What do you know about him?"

 _Sharp pain, hot pain, cold and stabbing pain, pain like a vice around the heart, never letting go, allows you to draw half a breath, but never full, never filling. Pain. Just pain._

"Is that all?"

 _No, not just pain, betrayal. Yes, betrayal too. And God, how it hurts!_

"Yes, it does, doesn't it?"

 _Yes, it hurts like that time… like when… like…_

 _Oh no, I don't remember that too!_

"Hm, and what can you tell me about dragon blood?"

 _Dragon blood? Yes, well, it has twelve uses, of course._

"Can you tell me?"

 _Oven cleaner, spot remover, mimicry of… mimicry…_

"What's the matter? Do you know them all or not?"

 _Of course I do! I know them! I know them all! I know everything about dragon blood that was ever discovered! I swear I do!_

"Of course you do, I believe you."

… _you do?_

"Certainly, I'm sure you just forgot."

 _Yes, I forgot… But I never forget things!_

"You don't? Ever?"

 _No, I remember everything, always._

"I see, and what do you remember about Ron?"

 _Sharp pain, hot pain, cold and stabbing pain, pain like a vice around the heart, never letting go, allows you to draw half a breath, but never full, never filling. Pain. Just pain._

"Is that all?"

 _No, not just pain, betrayal. Yes, betrayal too. And God, how it hurts!_

"Yes, it does, doesn't it? Just like that time when he left you on your own, doesn't it?"

 _Yes, he left me, and I needed him. I needed him so badly…_

"Like you need Harry?"

 _I don't need Harry…_

"Oh, that's right, my bad. It's him who needs you, is that right?"

…

"Nothing to say? Come now, you know it's true. Without you, he'd be nothing. You know it. Just like you know everything else. You are the real power behind Harry Potter. That's why he needs you. That's why he keeps you."

 _I'm not a pet to be kept around!_

"No, you are not. And yet, he keeps you around like one. He calls on you when he needs you, and when you have served your purpose he discards you in fervor of his real best friend. You know who that is, don't you?"

 _Sharp pain, hot pain, cold and stabbing pain, pain like a vice around the heart, never letting go, allows you to draw half a breath, but never full, never filling. Pain. Just pain._

"Is that all?"

 _No, not just pain, betrayal. Yes, betrayal too. And God, how it hurts!_

 _Yes, it hurts like that time… like when… like…_

… _It hurts just like when Harry discards me every time in fervor of… of_ him.

"That'sss right, good girl…" Lord Voldemort chuckled as he left the mudblood's mind. It was enough for now. He couldn't be so obvious as to alert her imminently to any outside interference. He wanted her to come to her own conclusions… well, mostly her own.

Now to delegate his guest's well-beginning to some capable hands. "Possy!"

"Great Master calls Possy?" Ugh, the atrocious creatures… "Take Miss Granger to a guest room in my wing and put her to bed. Make sure she sleeps and then feed her. Alert me when she awakens. That's all, you may go."

"Yes, Great Master! Possy goes now!" He surveyed the empty room and summoned a decanter. After pouring himself a decent drink he sighted in bliss. _Ah, finally in good company…_


	3. Chapter 3 - Insight

There was a throbbing sensation in her head, not quite like a headache, not at all.

Still, it was... bothering her? Yes. Yes, it was definitely bothering her! Just... not like a headache, damn it! Why was it so hard to just bloody _think_! She felt like ripping her hair out in frustration. Her stomach felt as if it had been sewn to her spine and she was itching all over her skin. And as if that wasn't quite enough, her eyelids were so swollen she could barely crack them open.

Wonderful, now she definitely had a headache. No, scratch that, it was a bloody migraine. Just. Bloody. Wonderful.

All that was missing were bloody death eaters at her doorstep.

…

No. Just no.

A short, barking laugh escaped her, shoulders heaving and teeth bared in silent continuation. Was is _really_ her life? Or was she still dreaming perhaps, having the worst nightmare in her whole, sadly short and unfulfilled life. It was interesting really, how when you just wake up there's just this primitive feeling of being and then, it all comes crashing back. All your fears and worries, all hopes and to dos for the day. And in her case, being betrayed by one of her closest people and by such abducted by the worst kind of men. The kind wanting her dead. Bah, one could hardly call it an abduction though. Not when she basically went along with them willingly.

There wan no more laughter escaping her.


End file.
